


memories

by icecoldwlw



Series: Catra Quotes [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, F/F, Fire, Hurt No Comfort, Memories, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecoldwlw/pseuds/icecoldwlw
Summary: On some days, she visits Shadow Weaver.She thought it would be easy. Seeing the woman who had taught her what true violence is, in shackles, beaten and bruised both mentally and physically, completely without her ultimate power.But it's not.





	memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is a heavier subject than any that i've written before, and i'd like to ask, that if you have experience with child abuse and you see something wrong or something that could be fixed or worded better, please tell me, and I deeply apologise for any hurt this may cause, or any mistakes that i make. 
> 
>  
> 
> please read the trigger warnings before reading this!

_‘Maybe Hordak didn’t trust you, but he trusts me plenty...’_

The days slip by without Catra noticing. She’s finally got a sort of rhythm around doing paperwork. Filled with many breaks that stretch on. But, she fills those breaks with scheming, so it’s okay.

On some days, she visits Shadow Weaver.

She thought it would be easy. Seeing the woman who had taught her what true violence is in shackles, beaten and bruised both mentally and physically, without her ultimate power.

She thought it would be nice. Funny, even. To be so above someone who used to make her feel so small.

But it’s not.

Because every time she sees her in that cage, not even trying to get out, her dark eyes finally unmoving, and completely blank, she has a nightmare. Not in her sleep, but as she speaks, and as she leaves the cell, and as she sits and thinks of what they discussed, and every second before she has to plan another attack, or do some more paperwork.

She thinks first, of the earliest memory she has.

It’s not really a memory. There are no images, no thoughts, no sounds. Just the painful feeling of being alone. A few months, she thinks.

Then they start.

The first memory she has of the Horde is hazy. She was just waking up.

There are a few peaceful seconds, where she is not cold, and where she is perfectly calm.

But also, where she is not alone.

Finally, there is movement, and noise.

She feels herself being taken somewhere. Not carried, but dragged by the hand. Her small legs could barely keep her up, and her knobby knees had nearly completely locked in place. 

“Adequate.”

That is the first word she ever remembers. Spoken by the woman who is now in that cell, alone. For the first couple years of her life, she is not entirely sure of the meaning.

It becomes clear when she is 9.

Because all she ever gets is ‘adequate’, while Adora gets ‘perfect’, ‘splendid’ and ‘marvellous’. 

But it does not matter. Because Adora is a traitor, she is a Force Captain, and Shadow Weaver is left to rot.

She flashes directly to another memory, of childhood again, and faintly feels herself slow down and move more sluggishly.

“Catra!” A voice screams. “No!” 

She hears the thwack before she feels it. It makes her freeze up, and all she feels is confusion.

Then, she feels pain.

She crumples to the ground and screams. Hot tears slip out of her eyes. She twists away from the voices behind her, and reaches a hand back to get the thing that hurts off. But the second her claws make contact the pain spreads and becomes worse. She curls up and squeezes her arms, trying to make the pain go away.

She hears Shadow Weaver’s voice ring out.

“Insolence and disobedience will not be tolerated.” She is disgusted, Catra thinks. It is a tone she hears often. Clear, sharp footsteps sound away from her, followed by a group of little ones.

Moments go by, and Catra can finally feel her back again. She lifts herself up with her arms, when she feels someone behind her. She whirls around to see…

Adora.

Adora looks like she’s going to cry.

“What are you doing here, dummy?” She spits. She wants her to go away, so she can be alone, because alone is best, because when she’s alone no-one can see her.

“I’m so sorry!” Adora races forward to hug her. Catra tenses up, and frowns. Adora isn’t touching her back. She’s steering clear of it, and wrapping her arms around Catra’s arms instead.

“What?” She asks, half confused and half melting into the hug because Adora sounds like she really cares.

“It was my plan for you to climb up and attack it from the sky, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt! I’m sorry!”

“It’s…” Catra should have expected this. Adora liked her. Adora was always nice to her. Even if sometimes, she didn’t remember who Catra was the night after she yelled at Shadow Weaver for her—

“It’s okay. It wasn’t… your fault.” Catra relents, and hugs back as best she can.

They stay like that for about a minute, and Adora rubs her arm. They separate.

“Is your back okay?”

“… It stings.” Adora frowns and looks down at her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to think of a way to make you feel better.” 

“Oh…”

“Hey, I know! Come lie down on my bed!”

“What?”

“It’s really soft! And it always makes me feel better when I’m hurt.”

Catra considers it. Then nods.

“Okay! Come on!”

Adora takes her hand and they run to the bunks. Catra jumps on the rails and some walls to run and Adora plays along, and by the time they get to the beds, they’re giggling and smiling and Catra feels nice.

Adora stops her with a hand, then fluffs the pillow and smooths out the sheets.

“Okay, now it’s perfect!”

Catra nods, and lays down on her right side, her back still out of commission. She sinks into the soft mattress.

“Okay, now put this on to make you warm.” Adora mumbles. Catra feels a nice blanket being pulled onto her. The mattress sinks down in front of her.

She peeks one eye open and sees Adora getting into the bed with her. 

“I’ll sleep close to the door, so I can protect you!” Catra nods, and the last thing she sees is the smiling face of Adora.

The next memory has her dizzy, and she thinks is she doesn’t sit down she’ll fall.

It’s from when they were older. About 13? Maybe 14.

Shadow Weaver had been screaming at her all afternoon. Catra had learned to tune her out, and care as little as possible by now.

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

She curled up at the foot of her and Adora’s bed. 

She drifted off, and was only awoken hours later by a soothing force on her back.

“Hey, hun.” Adora. Of course.

Catra rolled over to face her, and her eyes teared up. She brought her arms up weakly, and Adora immediately swamped her with a hug. It was a lovely hug. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud, but all of Adora’s hugs were lovely.

It was a weird thing to say. All she did was hug her and rub her back and kiss her forehead and ears and comb out the tangles in her hair with her fingers and tell her how cool and important she was.

Nothing special.

“She called me a brat, and told me I’m useless.” She’d say, tightening the hug. She wondered how Adora didn’t suffocate. How she didn’t complain.

“That’s not true! You’re amazing! I love you!” Adora would say. Catra would smile. But it didn’t erase what Shadow Weaver did. Everything still hurt, and Adora couldn’t fix that.

No one could.

Catra collapses, and the jolt from her knees hitting the ground brings her back.

It’s the dead of night.

She can hear her team snoring.

She looks down at where she’s kneeling.

In front of her old, destroyed bed.

Her trembling hands reach under it, and pull out pieces of paper.

That’s all they are, really.

Nothing special.

They’re only photographs of Catra with Adora, when they were children. The most recent one was taken just a year ago.

Why, she thinks, didn’t I destroy these?

She knows it’s because she wasn’t strong enough. Because she would always be weak when Adora was involved.

It’s what Shadow Weaver had said.

It was true.

Catra clenched her fists.

It. Was. Not.

She shoved her hand into her pocket, and plucked out a matchstick.

She scratched it on what remained of the bedframe.

Her hands shook as she brought the fire closer to the photos.

Three… Two… One.

The photos were alight.

Catra sat there, taking it all in. Staring.

Maybe Shadow Weaver didn’t just teach her violence.

Maybe she also taught her hate.

And maybe, she thinks, as she watches the fire rage, that was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a heavier subject than any that i've written before, and i'd like to ask, that if you have experience with child abuse and you see something wrong or something that could be fixed or worded better, please tell me, and I deeply apologise for any hurt this may cause, or any mistakes that i make.


End file.
